WebJournal - The blog will set you freeNews of no interest whatsoever except to very close and patient friends and family members and maybe people with no life

Wednesday, April 30, 2003

I am trying to decide what kind of weblog design I'd like. I am torn between an orange/lime green colour scheme with cartoonish accents and a fun font and a grey & white page with a typing machine font and a black & white picture. Both are, in a sense, me. I've been browsing blogskins sites but nothing there excites me. I am afraid I will have to design and hard code the page myself. Bummer. Well, doing it is not a bummer, making up my mind is a huge bummer. I might make my weblog skinnable so I can keep several designs.

I was invited to a belly dancing show tonight but I stayed at the office till past 7 pm and then rushed to get a a manicure and pedicure (and the 10' back rub that always goes with them). The weather is warming up fast, which means all I will be wearing for a couple of months at least are sandals and open-toes shoes. Pedicures are a must. I went for a soft pink today (the colour is called Mademoiselle), same hue for my nails, but I will definitely switch to my favorite, a dark deep red (called Wicked) very soon.

Yesterday dinner with Debra was at Ruby Foo's Upper West Side location. We both love the food, the cocktails and the chocolate cake there. She updated me on her trip to Chile, I updated her on whatever came to my mind. We then decided we have to expand our circle of friends to include local fun, interesting people. We have decided against bores and formal crowds and for designing a strategy to meet people who would like to go out on a whim and would enjoy a lively conversation, lots of dancing and even a good game of Pictionary. We are now on a mission.

On a technological aside: Apple has come out with a new iPod and I am drooling. My poor year-and-a-half iPod might be booted soon.

Very busy day ... again. This morning, when I was getting ready to get in the shower, Daniel's wife Beatriz called. They were in Central Park with the kids where Daniel was running for lung cancer. They came over a few minutes later, we spent some time at home and then they drove me downtown to pickup Melissa.
I spent the afternoon with Melissa, Mario and M. and her baby son. M. is a friend of Mario, a girl who lost her husband to a brutal murder a year ago, while she was pregnant. The case was all over the news and it had to be an extremely traumatic experience. Still, she is a very bright and sweet girl, a Buddhist with a very special outlook on life. The plan was to spend a quiet afternoon at the Botanic Garden in Brooklyn. Our plan crashed with reality: about a million people had our same idea. The afternoon was mostly about standing in line: standing in line to get in, standing in line to look at plants, standing in line to get food, standing in line to get to use the restroom. It was so crowded because it was a lovely day and, also, because it was the Annual Cherry Blossom Festival . We didn't get to see anything but the Butoh performance. I took some pictures that I will upload shortly.
After the performance we went straight back into the city, to M.'s apartment. There I took more pictures because she happens to be Bob Dylan's neighbour. After a while I took Melissa home and then went back to M.'s house for dinner, on her terrace overlooking a private park in the Village.
Now I am home, not having read a bunch of documents I had to read, which means I will need to get up early tomorrow. I also need to go get some stuff before my 10.30 am meeting, followed by a 11.00 am meeting.
So anything deeper than this short review of my day will have to wait. I am too worn out now.
Tomorrow evening I am having dinner with Debra, freshly back from her trip to Chile. Can't wait to hear about it.

Busy day again today. After work I proposed to go have a drink with a couple of colleagues and negotiated my way out of a French movie screening. A French movie is bad enough, a French movie with Isabelle Huppert and I am barfing uncontrollably. Anyways, we were supposed to meet after the movie, so I came home, ignored the call from my trainer and waited and waited and waited. And then, three hours later, I get two different phone calls cancelling our little bar outing because "it's too late now" . Too late? It's not even 9 PM! It's too early, that's what t is! And boy do I hate to wait! Let me wait and then cancel on me and you can be sure I am plotting murder.
To shift my murderous thoughts elsewhere I spent some time researching hypothyroidism on the Web since I finally got an e-mail from my doctor today with the lab results and it looks like I might have a very mild form of it.
Tomorrow I've been invited to Montse's house with a bunch of people. She is one of the lastest additions to our service and I am looking forward to knowing her better. Ming might call me later to join him at Splash .

Up at 5 AM, I was at the office by 7:30 AM. Worked until 6:15 PM. I got sleepy in the middle of the afternoon but I am now completely awake, so I might use the time to call up a few friends in Uruguay.

Madonna on Will & Grace? Painful to watch - and I've only seen the ads so far, not that I will watch the actual show .
She must be the world's worst actress ever. She's so very abrasive and her sad attempts at trying to look girlish are ... well ... sad. Why does she keep insisting? And, more to the point, why do they keep giving her a chance? Enough, already! You suck, girl!

I just watched this great show on TV. It could have been scripted by da man, Tony, himself . It was so refreshing and so politically incorrect.
All about the different theories on addiction. The most popular one that considers you a powerless blob willing to pay doctors and rehab centers to help you overcome a "disease". Willing to spend hours, days, weeks and year in therapy. Willing to be disrobed of your adultness and treated like a child. Then the other, the one I personally embrace, that reminds you of your free will and the fact that your life is defined by the choices you make. Not being a lump of flesh but an actual human responsible for your actions is very liberating.
I particularly liked the former drunk and his no bullshit talk. He said he still gets drunk now, drunk on walking his dogs, drunk on kissing his wife, because all that drinking means is getting pleasure out of something you do. Simply brilliant.
The arguments from the people from the fat acceptance movement were simply dumb and pitiful. This idea that overeating or getting big is somehow in your genes does not stand scrutiny. One wonders why they are so many more fat people now than 30 years ago. Did we go through a major silent gene modification? What about the European/Asian/African ancestors or branches of the family who share the same genes but not the same weight?
And, most importantly, why would people fight so hard to prove they have no control over their lives? It does not sound like something to brag about. There' nothing cool about being a victim.

Spring is finally here. Pedro and I had brunch at BB King. I've been there before and I love it. Not so much the food (cholesterol drenched Southern dishes - everything is fried) but the gospel ministry is wonderful. The place was packed, as usual, and we were sharing the table with a May-December couple. She was a pretty redhead in her thirties and he was a handsome guy in his seventies. She was all over him, grasping his hand, moving her hand all up his shirt sleeve, looking him lovingly in the eye, dancing and clapping. He just smiled sweetly. I checked, they were married, and to each other - both had the same silver ring on their left hand.
Before brunch we strolled by 5th Ave. to check out the Easter bonnet parade. I took some pictures and will upload them shortly.
After brunch we walked up to the Park and then through it to the Museum of Natural History. From the Museum we crossed the Park again and I left him at the Metropolitan. By then I had walked enough and, having had a bottle of water, I needed a bathroom so bad that I quickly hopped on cab and came back home.
We now had dinner and I am ready to apply some fake-tan lotion and get to bed. Pedro is very nice but he talks my ears off and sometimes I find myself yearning for some quiet time. It's amazing how much you get used to the quiet times when you live alone. And this is coming from me, a people lover. Fortunately when I live with my husband we had a perfect quiet/interactive time ratio and I never feel like he is invading me. We can manage the perfect silence of old couples. Not the tense I-hate-your-guts silence, but the comfortable I-am-her-for-you silence. Oh, well ...
Debra called today from Chile. It's being raining constantly and she is now on her way to Torres del Paine.

Now I know why lots of women have spider veins and bruising on their legs. I've tried this sugar, water and lemon concoction to depilate. This was a first time ever. Usually I just shave - daily - mainly because I hate hair and the idea of growing it in order to get rid of it makes no sense to me. But today I warmed up the stuff and tried it on my legs. Now I too have joined the legions of sisters with unsightly black-and-blue marks on their lower limbs. Damn! It better not be permanent or I'll sue the moron who sold it to me!

It's the middle of the night and somebody was banging on my bedroom door. I thought it might be a neighbour complaining about the volume of my tv. I immediately turned it down and then did what any self-respecting gossip would do: I put my ear to the wall to see if there was actually somebody complaining on the other side. Well, there sure ain't a lot of complaining going on there. It's more a lot of "Oh, God!" and a lot of moaning. To put it in plain English: my neighbours are screwing their heads and other parts off and the banging on my wall was probably unintentional.
I am green with envy.

Nice little reassuring piece. Isn't it comforting to realize there are enough chemical weapons to wipe out the entire world population three times over out there for the taking? See why I never worry? What would be the point in the face of threats of this nature?

Yesterday I hastily organized a little happy hour after work. A bunch of us trekked over to a neighborhood pub (called Keats) . Everybody had further plans, including me, so we did not stay long. The place is never packed (actually, it leans a little on the deserted side for my taste) and there is no dancing but I enjoyed it nonetheless. After less than a couple of hours I was home waiting for Pedro.
Today I spent the whole day at home putting back together my home automation network with a new software and then videoconferencing with JP in Madrid. I even got him to remotely control my bedroom lamp. An easy but impressive (not to mention handy) trick.
Tonight I might go out with Pedro, if he does not get here too late. Back to my tweaking.

I finally got to talk to Brigitte this morning. Later on I watched this incredible Montel Williams show for which I am looking for a link. It was about people who have survived all odds and it was fascinating, especially a girl who was shot twice and managed to get help crawling on her good leg and arm. She came across as such a vibrant, happy kid it was extremely moving. Or maybe is this ageing process getting at me again and having me sobbing in front of my tv set. I hope they only play comedies at the retirement home!
Lunch today was ok. As usual I hate myself when I don't speak up and then somebody else says aloud what I was thinking in my head. I hate it. I also hate this new quirk of mine by which I get a deep shade of red at just about anything. You hold a stare more than two seconds, I blush. I speak in public, I blush. It is ridiculous because I am not really your typical garden variety shy chick. And it's not always because I am mentally undressing the person I am talking too and performing all kinds of depraved act. Sometimes I blush for absolutely no reason, except an acute sense of embarrassment at what I perceive as a less than stellar moment on my part. Given that stellar moments are not too frequent I am blushing quite a lot.
I don't know why I am watching The Bachelor on tv. As usual the girl are a bunch of generic petite painfully stupid blondes and the "catch" is somebody no self-repecting woman would date twice. Not to mention the dates. Sooo tacky!!!!!
Lets hope Pedro shows up quickly.

Monica called at 5:35 am. I was already awake. She filled me in on her sister-in-law's sordid divorce details. JP is right: almost everybody we know is either divorced or living wth a person they despise. Just awful. Fortunately we are still very happy with each other and I have yet to meet somebody I like better. Are we lucky? Are we better at handling relationships? Go figure ...
I am trying to call Brigitte in Geneva, Switzerland, but she's not answering her phone. She might be out for lunch.
Speaking of lunches, the one with the big boss has been rescheduled for today, at a nearby Chinese restaurant. Afterwards, I will try to stay away from restaurants for a while and resume a decent working out schedule.
It's still very early, I am going back to my book.

Back from dinner. The restaurant was wonderful (Thai cuisine, the place is called Tangerine on 10th street in the West Village). I liked the place and I liked my mango salad and my prawn curry. Ming was there (after hearing me he decided we absolutely must go to Splash together, not to mention the circuit gay parties), Ariane was there (she is now ingaged to Scott, the medical student 15 years or more her junior whom I met at Pascale's almost two years ago - a truly great guy), Katarina (Vivienne's Russian friend whom I met at the Metropolitan Museum a couple of weeks ago - she wants to join us for Splash), Vivian and Randy and Pascale and Johanny. The food was very good, as well as the 5 mojitos I downed.
Pedro (a friend of JP's) called. He is in NYC now with the a bunch of graduate students from the School of Architecture in Montevideo. He will come and stay with me for a week, starting tomorrow.
The cab driver who took me to Tangerine gave me a typical NY experience. He was from Afghanistan, one of 9 siblings, two killed in the war with the Soviet Union. On our way to the restaurant he asked me if he could stop for coffee at his favorite joint. I agreed, of course. We had a very interesting conversation about his family, war and God.
It'a past midnight now, I gotta go back to my true-crime book and Monica will be calling me from Rome, Italy in a few hours, at 5:30 am.

I guess it's true that you need your sleep when you are doing weights. Yesterday I was back at home a little over 4 pm, fast asleep by 5 pm and I just woke up, the day after, at 6 am!!!!!!! No dinner, no nothing, just plenty of sleep!
Tonight I am off to dinner with Vivienne, a couple o friends of hers and Ming. I have to get back home at a decent hour because I might get a call from Europe on Wed. at 5.30 am.

Rushed home for lunch and to have an excuse to get out on such a wonderful day. I also needed the fresh air to keep me awake.
There's this meeting I am supposed to attend in an hour and I am dreading it.

Wow, I am impressed with myself. I got to the gym at 7.10 am, having slept barely three hours. And the best is that I feel completely energized and it's a gorgeous day out there. What a way to start the week!

I spent the whole day at home on the computer. I have now uploaded a bunch of pictures, including the ones I shot in Montevideo. I have also added a link to them from my main page. Now I need to add all the blows and whistles, some clip art and a catchy font.
It's almost midnight and I will probably spend a few more hours on this, not too many though as I am meeting Johanny at the club at 7 am.

I had a late late lunch with Melissa today at Moby's place, called TeaNY. The turkey sandwich (fake turkey, veggie mayo, tempeh) was absolutely delicious. So was the vegan peanut chocolate cake. And the mango lemonade was just perfect. I'll try to reproduce the sandwich tomorrow at home. It was such a beautiful day that we went straight to Broadway for a stroll that, inevitably, ended with me getting make-up at Sephora and bizarre accesories like fake piercings at Ricky's. I also bought, and applied, red hairspray for Melissa. I am now waiting to hear from her mother.
Tomorrow I might finally go to my first yoga class. Well, I did take one lousy class about 10 years ago at a fitness convention but I wasn't too impressed then. Too slow, too lets-hug-a-tree for me. Fortunately they have over 15 different yogas at my health club and I am hoping there will be one that will suit me. There better be. I am now the only yoga virgin in all of NYC, and it is getting to be quite a burden.
Re. my night at Splash on Thursday, boy, I love that place! It is not my music at all, all that thumpy electronica that's hot in Europe and with the pretty boys here. I'd much rather dance to r&b and hip-hop. But the crowd is so friendly I keep going back. There is always some guy that welcomes me with a huge smile and a "You're going to have fun, girl". The place is packed with nice taut bodies and more than a few good dancers and they don't mind grinding with a girl. They hug you and kiss you and introduce themselves and their boyfriends. Even the stunningly perfect bartenders are friendly. I just love the place.
It was Gemma's goodbye evening out. I hardly had a chance to get to know her. She came highly recommended by M.A. but I was away in Uruguay most of the time she was here. She is quite hyper, energetic and warm. Seems she will be back in August. Given that M.A. will be here then too I assume I will get little or no sleep this summer.
A bunch of people from work was there for her next-to-last evening in NY. Except for one, Luis, the rest are all new and quite younger. There were also some friends of friends. We started at The View bar in Chelsea and after a couple of apple martinis we moved to a BBQ place a few blocks away. Surprisingly, they were several vegetarian choices. I had vegetable tempura and a huge strawberry margarita. It was after dinner that we went to Splash were I stuck to water and lots of dancing.

I've decided to use mostly initials when mentioning other people. I do not want to be sued on invasion of privacy grounds nor do I want to make anybody feel uncomfortable. On the other hand, this is my blog and it's up to me to write what I want. If I want it to be a gossip column, so be it.

I overslept this morning and so did Johanny so we decided to meet tomorrow at 7 am. I managed to slip some rebounding in my very busy morning routine (ha!), before getting to the office to work a night shift which turned out to be a light early evening shift. On my way back home I stopped to get some take-away Japanese food. Given that I had sushi for lunch too (and have been having sushi for lunch for a week) I am in danger of turning into an anime cartoon any moment now.

The webcam is still not working. I know it was working this morning because my friend Paola got a glimpse of NYC from Rome but I could not access it from work. I would appreciate it if somebody could please try the link out and tell me if it works. Thanks.

Back from my dinner at A.'s. Mmm ... I know he's going to read this so I can't write a scorching report. Fortunately I don't need to. Really. It was a remarkable evening and I had a good time. It was also a bizarre experience of sorts. It felt both familiar and alien.

On one hand most of the guests were Italian and that in itself is both familiar and alien. The whole diplomatic/journalist/yuppie scene is both familiar and alien, too. It is familiar because I was raised in Italy and carry an Italian passport (albeit an expired one) and feel very much at ease with Italians; the scene was familiar also because I was raised in that kind of environment and because quite a few of the people I know, including my family-in-law and, to a certain extent, my own husband, still mingle in it. But then again I have not really spent a lot of time with Italians in the last 10 years and Italians are a very particular bunch. The dress code, for instance: fortunately, at the very last minute, when I was ready to leave work to go home, shower, change and get to the party, a little voice inside my head told me to play it safe and dress up for the occasion (to dress up is a relative term and I dressed up as much as a notorious bum like me can do). Naturally, the affair was way way way more formal than anything I've experienced since coming to NYC. You can easily spot an Italian male no matter how big the crowd. He's the one with the brown shoes, the spotless suit and the quirky cockiness (mind you, A. is a welcome exception to this despicable yet true generalization).

Although it felt like the kind of world with which I am very familiar it is nonetheless the world I have consciously left behind quite a while ago. It's the world to which my father belonged.

The play-by-play: I walked in and, not knowing anybody except for the hosts, started talking to the person nearest to where I landed: a very attractive older Italian lady married to a German journalist with the New York Times. She reminded me of the old socialites from my own country. She talked non-stop, mostly about family trees and the likes. She knew her pedigrees. After a while she tried to get me on the war subject. She threw in a few virulent anti-war remarks that I chose to ignore in a very obvious way. Nothing like staring back in silence to steer the conversation to something else. A young and friendly couple joined us but when the discussion started turning to books reviewed in the NYT and obscure European movies, a bleak fear of impending boredom invaded me - I knew the opera and Shakespeare in the Park were probably coming next - and I swiftly turned to my left and started chatting with somebody else.

Amazing how I had absolutely nothing in common with the lady. She loves Morocco, the deserts and the glaciers. I tried Morocco twice, was never able to stay more than a few hours. Hated the place. Deserts are my idea of hell. No electric outlets, no WiHi, no nothing. Glaciers I like, but my experience at the Perito Moreno in Argentina taught me that contemplation is not my thing and that a couple of minutes staring at a wall of ice is more than satisfying to me. Anything over a couple of minutes is profoundly irritating. Anything over five minutes and I want to kill myself and whoever dragged me to the stupid wall.

Then again, on my second round with the older lady we somehow started talking about her husband's health (he has recently spent two months in the hospital) and then my husband's health and then the miracle happened: she softened considerably and became very warm and caring and there we were, bonding on our human condition. We did indeed have something in common. Ailing husbands do come handy sometimes. Beautiful thing.

The guys to my left were talking about people they knew and about where they had done their MBAs or their Ph.D.s. Here again, I am the kind of person who does not have much reverence for formal education. I tend to think that the real movers and shakers are usually not formally trained and I am suspicious of classical education. The Bill Gates, the Steven Jobs, the Tony Robbins of the world are usually high-school or college drop-outs. My view is that colleges tend to churn out well read employees which is fine if an employee is what you want to be. You can also get a renowned MBA and work with a bank. It's an exciting life where you get to count the money of the entrepreneur who never got to college.

One of the guys reminded me of somebody from way back, so way back that I do not recall who it is. He had an underlying fragility to him that was very endearing, like a kid trapped in a man's suit.

I also spent some time talking to a very kind German (I think) girl. She is married to a beanpole of an Italian (he too was friendly). I can't remember who, but somebody in his family was married to a prominent Uruguayan politician. Such a small world.

Anyhow, I stayed over after most people had already left, as I mostly do. It's usually when the fun starts. And it did. I had a good time listening to this giant of an Italian man who vaguely resembled JFK Jr. (emphasis on vaguely, mostly the hairline and the hair) regaling us with stories of supremely luxurious cashmere sweaters, gloves and coats. I now know that several thousand dollars can buy you a super-duper sweater made of the very first down shed by a goat. I also know that you can have a completely hand-made suit, hand-made even in its most tiny details. I now know there's a waiting list for $30.000 coats. I learned the perfect time to go for the kill at a sale. I also learned that Hermes has this one guy in Paris who designs the windows of every single Hermes shop in the entire world. The most enjoyable part was watching the JFK Jr.-hair-look-alike's enthusiasm for an otherwise pretty lame subject. How passionate can you get about cashmere? Then again, my friend Pam is passionate about textiles too. She would glady visit the textile museum in D.C. on a daily basis.

The important thing is that I enjoyed myself (special mention to the fine wine and the great food). I love people watching. Sometimes I catch myself drawing cartoons of them in my head. Not mean spirited caricatures but just sketches of the way they sit, stand, talk.

Last but not least, C., A.'s wife, is really vivacious and spontaneous, as unpompous as you can get. I like that in a woman. In fact, I like that in a man, too.

I am back from my dinner party and have already written a draft of my entry for the day. I will published it tomorrow as soon as I can reread it.
Tomorrow morning I am meeting Johanny at 9.30 am for a workout and then I'll be on the night shift at work, so I'd better turn off the TV, go wash my face, put my Frownies on and finish reading the article on Michael Jackson in Vanity Fair.

How stupid of me! I was wondering why I can't see the webcam from the office and then I remembered I have the firewall on and I might not have left the port open. I'll have to correct that tonight.
As for lunch with the big shot, he has food poisoning and has postponed the meeting. Glad he did not start puking after having lunch with us!

Huge snow storm today and, as anxiously expected, we were let out earlier. It is alway very exciting, like going to school adn finding out there's a strike going on (great memories!). I was out in the storm by 4 pm, just in time to go get a french manicure and a 10 min. back rub, though I was not the only one who had the same idea.
I got home at about 5 pm and because I was up so early this morning (I did not get up at 4.30, but I was out of the house by 6.30 am) I fell asleep almost immediately. It didn't help that the apartment was so damn cold and that I had to get under the duvet. The situation is now resolved: all I had to do is turn the heater on. Duh.
I woke up with a call from a Daniel and have been on the computer ever since. I have configured a new streaming cam. I will aimed it at the street when I am at home (unless I want to share a dinner party or something) and at my bedroom when I am out. Good way to monitor the place.
Tomorrow I am out for lunch with a big shot, I hope he's not too boring.
In the evening it's dinner at Andrea's place. I think he invited a group of people and, as alway, I am thrilled at the idea of meeting perfect strangers.

Lunch was fun today and after lunch I went for a walk around SoHo with Bob�s Japanese friend. I stopped at a shop to buy essentials like pink colored hairspray and then came back home, ordered in Japanese food and then watched the world�s worst movie (FearDotCom). I will now set the alarm for 4.30 am so I can work a while before meeting Johanny at the health club at 7 am.
Tomorrow after work I might go try thw Mystic Tan booth.

Today was a perfect do-nothing day, except for food shopping and plenty of food eating (granted, all healthy food). I am now trying to get a couple of movies-on-demand, but the feature is not working. I already called tech help a couple of times.
Tomorrow it�s lunch at Bob�s with a Japanese girl visiting town.

Great! I have my broadband back! Dial-up was driving me crazy.
Today, after work, I met Debra at my cherished Divine Bar for a glass of wine and a lite dinner. I hadn't been there since M.A. left for Spain, but it felt good like coming back home.
I am also happy today because JP had a medical check-up with his cardiologist and everything is fine, even more than fine - he is doing great and, of course, so am I.

What a jerk! After work I went to this restaurant with my new colleague to meet a friend of hers (the same I went out with on Saturday) and friends of her. Almost all them were back from the mission in Bosnia, some having spent a couple of years, others up to 9 years. Most of them seemed nice enough but one of them was a total, complete, absolute asshole: an older guy from New Zeland, snobbish and kind of disheveled. The first thing he said to me, after ignoring me for quite a while, was that he had a friend whose Ph. D. thesis was about why Uruguay had failed as a country while New Zealand had been successful. Because I never think of myself as an Uruguayan I didn't take much offense at this stupid conversation opener. I just informed him that the premise was questionable while thinking to myself "What an idiotic old fart" and that was the end of it. As timed passed I found my dislike of him deepening. He kept cursing in a very adolescent kind of way (look mama, I can say big nasty words!) and making generally silly remarks. But the cherry on the cake was that because Blanca and I had to leave early (well, actually she had to leave early and I was certainly not staying behind) we tried to ask our waiter for the price of a glass of wine and a beer, so we could figure out our total. "Tried" is the right verb because it ended being an ordeal. Math was not his forte and he kept making all sorts of calculations on a piece of paper and coming back to us with bizarre bills. Meantime the New Zealand asshole was spewing aggressions and accusing us of being cheapskates. The one insult that really got to me was when he said that we were being just typical latinas. What a moron ! I left the place as fast as I could because there was really no point in arguing with an old ridiculous drunkard, but still ...

My vacuum cleaner died and I just ordered a new one from Amazon. I think by now I have bought just about everything on-line. Oh, today I also bought some Jane Iredale make-up, after two unsuccessfull tries at buying them in the real world. Yesterday I walked blocks and blocks to two different shops that were supposed to be carrying the line. Well, actually one one supposed to be carrying them, according to Jane Iredale's website, but it not any longer. The other shop was my mistake: I went to the wrong pharmacy!
Today was my first day at work, after over a month. I spent a good portion of the day socializing and trying to get up-to-to-date with what's going on, both businesswise and gossipwise. After work I went for a quick drink with a couple of colleagues. Feels good to be back in the swing of things!